Moments

It’s a time of lists. Other people may be doing New Year’s ones, but I’m all behind (well, not all behind, but 80% fat arse after all those mince pies) so I still want to tell you about Christmas. Here are my Best Of moments in various categories:

WINNER - Moments of utter horror:

My son excitedly loading his new Star Wars Disney Infinity game and lining up his figures in front of the PS3 on Christmas morning, only to see a message flash up on the screen: ‘There is not enough memory to load this game’. It took me at least 1hr and 49m to sort it out. I know this, because my daughter watched the whole of Nativity 3: Dude, Where’s My Donkey? before I managed to solve the problem.

WINNER - Moments of ‘looking on the bright side’:

Not having to watch Nativity 3: Dude, Where’s My Donkey?

WINNER - Moments of ‘am I a bad person for finding this funny, despite it also being heartbreaking?’:

The roulette wheel of dementia spinning round and causing Mum-in-law to assert with full authority: ‘Of course it isn’t 25th December!’ before looking round the table, spotting Christmas cracker hats on everyone’s head and slowly raising her hand up to feel the rustle of a festive paper crown on her own bonce.

WINNER - Moments of ‘I love it when a plan comes together’:

People with Prader-Willi Syndrome are sticklers for routine, so my decision to move the dinner schedule around and switch Christmas dinner to Christmas tea-time was a big one. Luckily I made this determination several months ago (upon realising my husband would be working day shifts over Christmas), and worked out that this was the only way I could control the children, supervise the present-opening, taxi my parents, pick up Mum-in-law from the care home, and manage to cook a Christmas meal for everyone. Thus followed three months of careful negotiation with my PWS daughter, but the resolution was passed, and carried out successfully, without any sanctions, peace conferences, or declarations of war.

WINNER - Moments of utter relief: 

The welcome my husband received when he arrived home from his Christmas Day shift an hour early, just in time to join us for the meal.  My response to his ironic cry of: “Honey, I’m home!” involved me cheering, leaping up and down, and dancing around the kitchen. “This is just how I greet him when he comes home from work every day...” I told the assembled family, diving gratefully towards my first drink of the day. “It’s like the welcome I get in my head has come to life,” he clarified.

WINNER - Moments of pride and joy:

The Christmas cake (pictured), which my girl made at school before they broke up, and which had been nestling in its beautiful packaging under the tree. She iced it herself. Under supervision, of course. She was very proud. I could just about burst, and that was before I’d eaten any.

The tag read:
To mum and dad thank you for looking after me and for everything you do for me
I hope you enjoy it. 

Did she mean she hoped we'd enjoy the cake, or that she hoped we enjoy looking after her? It doesn't matter. The answer to both is yes.

Video is Cake - Frank Sinatra

Merry Christmas, one and all. And I’ll get round to saying Happy New Year sometime.